The United States of New America
by TheGrammarHawk
Summary: Hey, I'm Mackenzie. While flying to London I see something unimaginable. Now, knowing that all of my family and friends are dead, I am given a huge burden: To pick up the pieces of a destroyed country, the US of A. After being picked up by someone I never expected to see, now I'm learning about how to be a country. It's going to be harder than it seems. Rated T for various things.
1. Chapter 1: Seeing is Believing

**Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia!**

**AN: The girl, Mackenzie Smith, who is the one speaking in this story, is based somewhat off of me. Her personality and appearance are, for the most part, along with some quirks like OCD and anxiety. Correct age, family, and location? Nope. We share no names either. So this was thought up because of talk about North Korea and the nukes. I really hope this story is not true, nor ever comes to be true. But enjoy the story, I hope you all like it! (No pairings so far)**

...

I didn't want to think what I saw had been real. It couldn't have been real… it just wasn't possible.

I'm sitting in an airport, and life around me seems normal. Only I'm surrounded by people with British accents. Normally I'd love to listen to the beauty in their voices.

But not today. I sit there in shock.

I'm Mackenzie E. Smith. I have dirty-blonde hair that's none too pretty that hangs around my shoulders. My bright blue eyes that could shoot glares strong enough to hex are behind patterned blue glasses that slide down my nose.

I'm pretty young, still in school – high school. I'm fifteen. I live in Washington D.C., the capitol of America.

I've been having some trouble in school. Always being bullied and crap like that. I don't have that many friends, but I don't mind. Whatever. I like to be alone. Alone in my books and writing.

The bullying is always for stupid things. I'm pretty tall for a girl my age, and of course my glasses – it amazes me how immature some people can be. Yeah, I correct a lot of people on spelling and grammar because that was how my mother raised me – my spelling and grammar is nowhere near perfect. I watch anime and stuff like that too, not crazily hardcore – but enough. Not to mention I love to speak in different accents. My own bloody accent is a mix of several… and people seem to take it the wrong way.

I've always wanted something to happen to me. Something exciting.

But not like this.

I'm in this airport in London because I was sent here to attend a wedding. My cousin, Harold, is getting married. We don't exactly get along though. I could care less about this wedding.

In fact, most of my family finds him obnoxious. I'm the only representative here right now… my mom, step-father, and younger twin brothers Liam and Paul – who are thirteen – are all in California, enjoying a nice vacation.

Mom doesn't like social gatherings, and my step-father doesn't like Harold. Liam and Paul are inseparable, and since Liam, who has a spoiled temper, doesn't like Harold – Paul isn't coming with me. Dad would've made them go if he was alive. He loved the twins, he loved Mom, and he loved me.

But he's gone. He died in the attack during 9/11.

So I'm here. Alone. Like always.

But something that I saw on the plane haunts me. I've tried calling Mom's cell, and the hotel they're staying in. But I got nothing, not even voicemail, and I'm afraid that what I saw was not a hallucination.

My anxiety started kicking in when I couldn't get ahold of Harold either, so I'm stranded here dwelling in my stupid anxiety disorder. Whoopee.

I look up, clutching my suitcase. I'm sure my eyes are red with unshed tears. I look around, wondering how these English folk with whom I share heritage could act so normal. But of course, they didn't see what I did.

I'm alone, so a voice directed at me from behind my back puts me on edge. "I say, are you alright?"

A man comes around and sits next to me. He has blond hair and kind green eyes and _very_ bushy eyebrows.

For a second I consider responding in an accurate British accent that would match his own. That's when he stops me. "You don't look familiar, and I'm afraid that I recognize most people in these parts. What's your story?"

I couldn't believe it. I stared at him, looking shocked I'm sure.

Was this who I thought it was? I _did_ watch anime and read manga after all.

Again, before I could start he stops me. "You look rather young to be alone. Are you alright? You seem upset." "And you're a total stranger!" I snap back immediately, feeling alarmed.

He smiled calmly at me as if he expected my outburst. "It's alright, love. You can trust me." "But… how can you trust me?" A headache starts forming, probably from the anxiety. I know that if he keeps pressing that I won't be able to hold it in longer. "I mean, I don't even know your name."

"Well then, you can call me Arthur. Arthur Kirkland. And if something's wrong, you can most certainly tell me." I freeze. You've got to be kidding me…

Now fairly certain who this is, I feel my chest burn with the need to share what happened.

"You're going to think I'm crazy." "Perhaps. But I'm pretty sure you aren't. Trust me, I know what crazy looks like."

I sigh. I have to say it.

"I just got here, I flew in. When I was on the plane, just outside of England, I saw something pass the plane a little ways away. It was big and black and looked… it looked like a missile of some sort. Then I read the four white letters on the side. N-K-N-M."

"And you think you know what it stands for, I believe?" The man now had a frown, but he seemed to be seriously considering my story.

"Yes. I think it stands for… North Korea Nuclear Missile. And I think that either it was heading for America, or has hit it already." "Judging from your worry I'm guessing you think the latter."

I nod, feeling cold all of a sudden. "Yeah. I think it hit the West Coast and I think that more are right after it. I've been trying to call my family… and not only haven't they answered, but the phone just goes dead."

He nodded, looking deep in thought. "This is very troubling, if you are correct. And I don't think you're wrong. You seem to be a very trustworthy young lady. And you're all alone; I don't suppose that you have anything to do?"

I grimaced. This was serious stranger-danger. Even though I _knew_ who this _had to be_.

"I'm sorry. I just can't do that. You're a stranger, and even though I'm already alone–" my voice broke. Ashamed, I shut up. I don't cry. I don't even get close. I don't like to openly share my emotions.

I feel him slip his arm around my shoulders and I tense. I only ever really allowed one of my guy-friends to touch me, to hug me in a way that didn't feel awkward or forced. I close my eyes, wishing that I could wake up in my home with one of the twins yelling and knocking on my door for me to wake up.

"Come now, I know you doubt me. You think you know me, and you're right, but you're waiting for an excuse to come with me. Well, I'll tell you: I'd rather like for you to come to this meeting I'm having in fifteen minutes, and repeat what you saw. You seem to have a strong heart and a strong spirit… so open your eyes."

I opened them. Sitting in my lap, lighter than air – was a curiously green bunny. A… flying mint bunny?

I smile as it brushes up against me, and I pet it, still aware of the arm around my shoulders. I hear Arthur chuckle. "I was right. He likes you. You like mythology and legends, don't you?" "Yeah…" I whisper.

"You will come with me now, won't you? I'm afraid about my friend Alfred. If what you say is true, then we really must hurry to that meeting."

I honestly… trust him. And I feel like I don't have much choice, either. Besides… I don't like Harold, so…

"Okay," I say, standing, upsetting the bunny which moves to sit on my shoulder. Arthur smiles at me, standing and taking my free hand. "Well that's splendid. Come, I'll show you to my car. We have ten minutes," he winks at me, starting to pull me off.

"I think we can make it."

...

**AN: You like? R&R Please! Cookies for those that do! I love reviews!**


	2. Chapter 2: In the Car

**Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia or Harry Potter for that matter... Or McDonalds or any of that.**

**blueorgray1236: Thank you. I shall indeed write more!**

...

The car is not filled with an awkward silence. Arthur keeps asking questions to keep me preoccupied – as if he knows what horrors will take place in my brain if it falls silent.

"So, you know my name, what's yours?"

"Mackenzie E. Smith. The E. stands for Emma."

"That's neat. When's your birthday, Mackenzie?"

"…I know it's stupid. The fourth of July. Yeah. I know. And I live in D.C., so it's like 'hard-core American'. Of course, I'm not obese or obnoxiously loud like so many people are. And McDonald's? Hate it. Don't like a lot of fast food actually. Don't get me wrong – burgers and hotdogs are great – but there's just so much 'American lifestyle' that I can handle."

"So you don't like America much, it seems?" there was a little doubt in his voice.

"Oh, no! I love America. It's great… I mean, seriously. One of my ancestors was a Founding Father… So says my mother. She seems to think we're descended from Samuel Adams, but how'd we know? And I do like America… just not everything about it. How it's gone downhill. We as a whole seem lazy, there's a reason why there are so many obese people too… and people spend more time with phones and electronics instead of friends and family. And there always seems to be something or _many_ things wrong with our government… But I love the message behind America. The freedom of it… the spirit and strength. Some of the people I know think that we're immortal because we're American. I don't. Don't get me wrong – not all Americans are like this. Some are rather nice and have the same views I do or better… But that's exactly it. We can always get better. And I want to make the world better, not just America. I am, in some ways, ashamed of us. But I think that I can make a difference when I'm older."

Arthur had gone silent. I saw him smile in the mirror of the car. "That's very interesting. What are your interests?"

I smirk. He's in for it now. "Well, besides doing well in school, I love reading, swimming, and going to football games. Playing tennis is fun too. But I really enjoy spending time with my family and limited friends… and writing. Writing and writing. It's my life. I belong to a lot of fandoms for my favorite things. Like, for example, my heart obsesses over Harry Potter by J.K. Rowling the most!"

"You like that? Interesting."

"And you know what else I like, _Arthur_?"

He smiled again in the mirror. He knew what was coming.

"I really like anime and manga. A really cool one is… _Hetalia_."

I watched him raise an eyebrow. "Ah? That, huh. I was fairly sure that you recognized me. Then I guess I can fill you in too. Yes, we're going to a world meeting. I really do believe your missile story; in fact, we all think North Korea's been up to something. He doesn't show up at a lot of the meetings and his brother, South Korea, hasn't been saying anything. None of the Asian countries have, actually… and you're right about America having a few problems. He's been a little rundown recently. If he listened to you, maybe we'd be able to start getting him back on track."

I feel a pit of worry deep in my gut at this. "…Arthur… if what I saw was real… what will happen to Alfred?"

I watched his eyes narrow as we pulled into a parking lot.

"I don't know."

...

**AN: Much shorter, I know. Next chapter will (hopefully) be longer. R&R please!**


	3. Chapter 3: At the Meeting

**Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia.**

**AN: Thank you to the two who reviewed! You get cookies!**

...

He leads me up to a room. From what I can tell by the outside, it's a large room and it's very loud inside. Arthur looks a little annoyed by the sound, "Well, we're probably the last people here, which isn't a problem… the question is, what's it going to take them to all quiet down? This could be a serious issue."

We walked in. Everyone looked over in mid conversation to see who it was – and they all went silent in shock to see me with him.

"England, what is the meaning of this? Did you bring a human girl in here!" I recognized that loud voice, and the blond hair and blue eyes. Germany, or Ludwig Beilschmidt.

Arthur nodded, and I watched him scan the room for him. Alfred. But when I looked with him, all eyes were on me. I've… never been comfortable in front of people…

I suddenly find my hands clinging to Arthur's arm as if I'm five. How embarrassing. But at the moment it's a need as my mind reels in the ocean of anxiety. I find myself looking at the floor.

Someone comes up and bends over, eyes opening to reveal a familiar bright gold-brown. Italy Veneziano, Feliciano Vargas. He smiles at me kindly. "Aw, Germany, you're scaring her! What's your name, _bella signora_?" I blush in embarrassment. Oh my God. He's _talking_ to me.

I barely whisper "Mackenzie Smith…" before I look back up and see him. He's sitting a ways away, looking at me intently. As if he knows me, or recognizes my name. It's Alfred.

I know instantly something's wrong with him. He's a little pale, eyes slightly glazed over. And he's quiet, and _anyone_ who's watched or read Hetalia _knows_ that's not right.

"You didn't answer my question England, what is the meaning of this? Why is… she here?" Ludwig said it again, but softer this time.

Arthur looks at me. "Everyone, this is Mackenzie Smith. I found her in the London airport. She saw something flying over that is a serious threat if true." His eyes focus on Alfred. "Would you please tell them what you saw, Mackenzie? Tell them your story."

I take a deep breath, readying myself. I don't want my voice to warble like it so frequently does in front of people.

"Yes, I'm Mackenzie. I'm from America and quite frankly I'm nicknamed various America-related names due to Independence Day and my birthday being the same date, and the fact that I live in D.C., and occasionally people tease me even further seeing my Dad died during 9/11. I'm currently a sophomore in high school, am one of the most ridiculed girls in the school due to the 'populars' hating me. I hope to work in a hospital when I'm older, and I've already started researching for that, including volunteering at hospitals…"

I had to start off with a life story thing. That way Arthur could also assess Alfred, and I would catch the attention of everyone. They seemed interested now.

"I had flown into London for a wedding, which my Mom, Step-father, and brothers didn't want to go to. They went to California instead." "I'd rather be at California…" Alfred muttered darkly, looking at me. I smiled for a second, but it vanished quickly. "I was almost here when I saw something… a missile. I believe, based off of its appearance, that it was a nuclear missile heading towards the west coast of the U.S. I've called my family and hotel since then…" I felt my voice fade quietly. "No one has answered."

Now it was Alfred's turn to be stared at. "Mon ami, are you hiding something?" France, or Francis Bonnefoy. Alfred, a tired look in his eyes, glanced at me again before glaring at him. "I don't think she's done yet. Continue, Mackenzie." I nodded.

"I believe that either the missile has hit, or it shall hit within the near future. I also think that there is more coming…"

Again, I felt the eyes shift from me to Alfred.

"Hey Mackenzie, how've you been?" he asked the question with a light tone, as if we were alone and hanging out. "I've seen you before. Since you live in the capitol, I'm not surprised. I've seen you go to school; I've seen you working in the hospitals. Sorry if that's, like, creepy or anything." I laugh slightly – how is he able to make me feel so comfortable? – "I think I knew your Dad, too. You see, judging by how you seem to know us, I'm guessing you're a fan of Hetalia. That's a thing that was put out there to make us seem like fantasy. Sort of. That way if you see us you just think we're cosplayers, but you're able to accept the idea of us being there. Your Dad was probably one of the few people that knew we existed. I'm totally sorry about his death though, that sucks."

With his description of Hetalia and what it is, it makes perfect sense. I've had various theories on how it could be real but hidden. This just fits!

And he kept talking. Was it to distract him or the rest of us from something? "Humans are pretty interesting. For example, they could live somewhere but have a totally different history. Who are you related to, out of us? What's your heritage?"

I blush, not sure how awkward it would be to say it. "Ah… I guess you could say I'm related to a few of you. Technically, I'm American, though not Native American. I'm also… English," Arthur gave me a knowing smile, "German," Ludwig seemed surprised but it didn't show on his face for long, "Irish, Scottish, Welsh," Arthur's three older brothers smiled at me from across the room, "French," Francis immediately perked up, "and… Italian." Both Feliciano and Lovino looked surprised.

"I guess you could say… I'm like a mutt. That's what I call myself. A mixed breed of a lot of things." I gave an awkward smile. Alfred smiled back – he was even paler – "That's what the American Dream is for. It unites a lot of people in amazing ways for cool outcomes."

Suddenly it hit me. He _was_ trying to change the subject. He seemed so weak talking because something had already happened. I felt Arthur tense slightly beside me, and I know that he realized it too.

That's when there was a ringing noise, and Alfred held a cell phone to his ear. He listened intently, his face serious. Everyone else started chatting amongst themselves again, and I turned to Arthur.

"He's hiding something." I said stoically. He nodded, eyebrows furrowed. "Something must be going on over there."

"Hey dudes?" we both turned at the voice directed at us. Alfred had his phone to his ear, a hand on the doorknob. "I'm just gonna take this right outside the room, okay? Carry on with the meeting."

He didn't hesitate to go out without our answer. My heart rate picked up as I looked Arthur in the eyes. He understood my gaze immediately, turning quickly to the other countries.

"Where's North Korea?"

...

**AN: It's starting to get somewhere, I think. OH! Yeah, by the way, Mackenzie's heritage? Another thing from me. We share the same heritage there. (Though I am related to a lot of cool people, Samuel Adams is not one that I know of.)**

Translations: (Mackenzie, also like me, only knows English and Spanish. So you might need this too.)

bella signora - pretty lady (Italian)

Mon ami - My friend (French)


	4. Chapter 4: Down with America

**Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia.**

**AN: Thanks to those that reviewed! It's a little later than I'd like where I am, so I must hurry and post this!**

...

Everyone whirled around, calling for him instantly. The room was chaos in mere seconds. I felt my hand grabbed and dragged up against the wall – Italy. He and his brother Romano had instantly gotten out of the chaos, and they had taken me with them. That was... kind of nice.

Finally I heard Germany's voice roar over the chaos. "EVERYONE QUIET!" I watched everyone freeze and stare at him, and he glared around furiously, eyes softening only slightly as they passed over me and the Italy brothers.

We all came to terms, in the silence, of North Korea's absence. I instantly felt a pit open in my stomach. My instincts led me to rush to the door – I was a babysitter for friends and my younger cousins before a volunteer at the hospital, after all, I tended to be good with these things whether I liked it or not – and I was followed by various other nations that I didn't look back at.

I froze instantly outside of the room. Just a few feet away was America, leaning hazardously against the wall. Dammit… he's being lost so quickly…

As he starts to slide down to his knees, I go up and gently slip my arm around him, easing him down to a sitting position. He was pale, though his cheeks were slightly flushed, and his eyes were unfocused. He seemed slightly dazed, and was weak.

I feel his hand clutch onto mine, though I don't know why he seeks _my_ comfort. I fix his glasses, which, like mine, are sliding down his nose. He gives me a weak smile.

"Mackenzie Emma Smith. Fifteen years old." He recites it almost formally, but there's a slight teasing tone to his faint voice. "Native of the United States of America. Descended from various lines of heritage that lead to many countries." I watched his eyes flicker to the people behind me, but I don't break contact as he slides further into a near horizontal position, back against the wall. It is all I can do to hold his hand half as tight as he is holding mine. "Lives in Washington D.C., capitol of America. First born, only daughter. Gifted and advanced student of sophomore year. And so much more."

His voice is shaky and weak. He looks back in my eyes and I feel my throat close, I can't breathe.

"You are quiet and not very well spoken due to social issues. But… you have a bright mind and a clear view on what is wrong with much of the world. Certain political things disgust you… I've made a lot of wrong choices, and a lot of enemies… And I won't deny that I pay attention to the people. Especially the kids. They have strong voices. Like… you. I…I've gathered that you don't much like the spotlight… but… maybe you can do things that I've failed at… I don't know all of the reasons why North Korea did this… but I know this… isn't over…"

His breathing had gotten worse. He felt warm, and I noticed rash-like areas of his skin that almost looked like burn marks…

"…I'm real sorry about everything that has gone wrong… but… I can't do this anymore… thanks for the heads up about the missile, but there was nothing any of us could do… the problem is…" I felt the nations behind us tense. I was still unsure of who was there exactly, but I knew there were quite a few. I could guess at the problem.

"This has never happened before. Not really. The United States of America… most of it is destroyed. Totally totaled. But… there are tiny parts… I can feel… they're still there… and there are so many Americans vacationing or just living around the world… kind of like you… so… America's gone… but not…" I didn't understand! What on Earth could that cryptic sentence have meant?

"The case is that we're about to have a broken nation without a personification to keep it running. It's not a new nation so no kid's gonna appear…" His hands are cold, God, why are his hands _so cold?_ "And… after what I've seen of you… I think… I can trust… you. Pick up the pieces Mackenzie. You can make _our_ country… better."

Those words ring in my ears as I stare wide-eyed at him, horrified. His blue eyes suddenly lose all depth and fade. He stops breathing. His hand goes limp in my own.

It's much, much too sudden. It flashes me back suddenly to my Dad's death, when I was a toddler. Standing at the funeral in a little black dress next to my mother, an infant twin in each of her arms, as I cling tightly to a little American flag. Like it's my last lifeline.

I'm still not breathing as I feel my cheeks suddenly become wet. It's not like me to cry. It's not like me to show any true emotions. But I don't know what's bloody happening.

I feel a small hand on my shoulder but before the unidentified nation speaks, something happens. A weird, silvery dust materializes around America. Before I grasp it entirely it all swirls closer to me, triggering my sensitive lungs to start coughing. I stand, the hand that was holding me comfortingly letting go, but I am enveloped in the dust.

But I suddenly feel as if my whole body is on fire. Spots swim in my eyes as everything gets hotter around me. I hear some calls of concern – England? Italy? Someone else? – and I feel a few hands try to grab me and settle me, but I can no longer see through the pain.

I feel myself crash back down, only to be caught and held by someone an inch off the ground, but my eyes are squeezed tight through the pain…

But… then there's nothing but darkness…

...

**AN: Sorry if it's... overly depressing. Also I'm sorry if there are a bunch of mistakes, I'm... *yawns* I'm going to sleep now... much better with sleep...**


	5. Chapter 5: Transforming

**Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia.**

**AN: Hey everyone, sorry that I've been gone for a while! I had family business and I was sick... so I basically failed. I'll also be gone from the thirteenth to the seventeenth (I think) so I'll be a while. And then soon after is my birthday, so I have no clue what will happen around then. And shout-out to Haiti2013, thanks for the favorites and follows earlier, that really pushed me to write this! I love everyone who reviewed!**

...

Everything's cold. But not me. My head hurts, and I feel warm. Judging by the cool, crisp sheets I'm lying on, I'd say I'm on a bed… maybe at a hotel? It feels tight and standard, not exactly comfy… And there are a lot of pillows.

Definitely hotel standard.

But what happened? How did I get here… That's when it all comes back to me. The missile. Meeting England. Going to the World Meeting. America… dying?

What the hell happened to me? That couldn't be – it wasn't – how could this _possibly_ have been real? I probably just got here really late and was tired, so I checked in to my hotel and passed out. It was all a dream.

I really did hope it was a dream. But also, guiltily… not. I mean, I wanted the experience to be real. But not the events. Does that even make sense?

I groan, sitting up and cracking open my eyes. Everything's blurry, but I definitely think this is a hotel room. If not, I was probably drugged and taken to some bar. Fun night.

I locate my glasses, and put them on. I realize that what I'm wearing feels weird and uncomfortable. And warm, under these blankets.

I sit up, stretching and cracking my back. I see my bag, and grab it, opening it to find my hairbrush on top. As I brush out my hair, I realize that I'm not wearing pajamas.

"What the hell?" I mutter to myself as I look down. I don't recognize these clothes at all!

I move to stand in front of the mirror, my tired brain trying to understand the change. I'm wearing jeans. Blue jeans. Capris, I think, as they go halfway past my knees – or maybe they just weren't meant for someone my height. I don't wear jeans. I don't even own any – shocking, I know. Give me sweat pants and a sweat shirt any day. I also wear a white tank-top with an American flag design on it. It's bright and stands out. I don't like to stand out, and I wouldn't pack something with an _American flag_ on it to wear in England. I mean, really? If anything I want to blend in. I also wear a fuzzy jacket that's the same blue color as the corner of the flag, and it's got pockets and a hood. A zipper. Now this, I could own. But I don't think I've seen it before…

So this freaks me out, of course. What exactly happened? Was it a dream, or not? I stifle a yelp when I realize that my face is painted. Like a doll. I'm wearing loads of make-up! I don't wear _any_ make-up!

I run to the bathroom, taking my glasses back off and scrubbing my face with a washcloth. Finally, _finally,_ it comes off. I sigh, putting my glasses back on.

"Having a rough start?"

I jump and barely manage to stifle yet another yelp at the voice. I whirl, chastising myself for not hearing a person coming.

But when I recognize the voice and man in front of me, I realize that it wasn't a dream at all.

"Arthur?" I say skeptically. He smiles. "Well, yes, I assume that I am me. What's going on? You seem rather startled."

"Where the hell am I, and where did these bloody clothes come from?" I don't mean to shout it, but I'm surprised and alarmed. He smiles back again, almost mockingly. "Well, it seems you're plenty fluent in English cursing." "Of course I flaming am! I'm part English and sure as hell I'll act like it!"

He rolls his eyes. He seems very well-behaved – I've seen quite worse in the anime, of course. Is he humoring me? "Well, back to your questions. You are currently in the hotel room that you were to stay in for the wedding you came here for. Ironically, you are in the same hotel that many of the countries are in. Same floor, too, actually. I believe on your left is France, to your right is Germany and Prussia, and across the hall are the Italy brothers. And about the clothes… I don't know! How the hell would I know unless you're assuming I changed you? Of course I've been checking up on your room along with several other concerned nations, but I would never go so far as–" "Calm yourself!"

I manage to cut him off. _This_ sounded like England. I have to guess that the reason that's he's been so calm before was out of concern for America and trying to seem normal in public. Normal. Ha.

"I'm not trying to assume that you changed me, I'm just curious. These aren't my clothes." He looked thoughtful for a second. "Really? That _is_ awfully strange. I checked on you this morning and you were in them, but still in bed. I had thought that you had gotten up and changed yourself…" The word 'morning' hits me. I leave the bathroom and find a clock.

It's about three in the afternoon. I've been out since last night! "What the hell?" I whisper. I turn back to him, who's looking at me, concerned. "It's not just the clothes, I also woke up in make-up. Like, movie-star, Hollywood make-up. I don't wear make-up, Arthur." "The only other people besides myself that have been in here to check on you are Canada, who would be too modest to change you or anything of that sort, and…"

He froze. Blood rushed to his face. "FRANCE!" I had to bite back a smile. I shouldn't have found this amusing… France could've molested me. But I don't feel molested… so this is amusing.

I followed him as he rushed next door. He started knocking rapidly, and I could've sworn smoke was coming from his ears. While I waited for him to run out of steam and for France to open the door, I turned to see Ludwig open his. He scanned us for about three seconds before I heard him mutter "Nicht schon wieder…" I nod, remembering some of my… ah… 'lessons' in German that my step-father would teach me and the twins. "Ja, sie nie aufhören sie zu tun?"

He looks at me in surprise. "You speak German?" "Yes. Not fluently, like Spanish and English, but a bit. My step-father forced me and my brothers to learn it. I, like I said, also know Spanish, and also some Australian and Irish slang. And just a tiny bit of French, Italian, Latin, and Japanese is thrown in there as well." That's when France finally opens the door.

"What is it that you want, Angleterre?" He says with an annoyed voice. "I want to know if you happened to change Mackenzie out of her clothes and into new ones, as well as doing her make-up! And you molested her too, didn't you, frog!"

He looks me up and down. And smiles, which sends a shiver up my spine. "Bonjour, Mackenzie." He turns back to Arthur slightly. "I have no clue what you are talking about, Angleterre! I would not do that to such a belle jeune femme, we have hardly met besides! I respect her privacy. And I would not dress her like that, she would instead be clothed in popular French styles!"

When he says that, I know what's going on. I'm not sure if I like it, either. "Wait a second. I'm dressed in popular _American_ styles. The jeans, at least, and the flashy flag are _so_ American. And the make-up was distinctly Hollywood-like…"

"Well then it is simple, isn't it?" It was Ludwig speaking from behind.

"You're turning into America."

...

**AN: A bit more of me in here, I actually do not own jeans (so far) and I speak English (obviously), some Spanish, and a teeny bit of German, French, Italian, and Japanese - thanks to my father (who knows a little German and it's fun to pick up things from him) and Hetalia, of course. I plan to start learning Latin soon. And I actually research and use Australian and Irish slang sometimes... Because I'm bloody insane. And yes, I do swear in 'British' a lot, as my friends put it. Bloody, flaming, twit, twat, git, wanker, what have you. So, as I said, Mackenzie and I are only fluent and familiar with English and Spanish, though we have some knowledge of several others! Enjoy!**

Translations:

Nicht schon wieder - Not again (German)

Ja, sie nie aufhören sie zu tun - Yes, they never quit do they (German)

Angleterre - England (French)

Bonjour - Hello (French)

Belle jeune femme - Fine young woman (French)


	6. Chapter 6: The News

**Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia. Also, if you had any doubt, this story is not to be considered 'educational' or 'historical' at all. A few things are taken from random things I've found that are not to be taken very seriously. This is a fictional story that is for fun. :) Again, just in case you had any doubts.**

**AN: Thank you, Hetalia-FACE-Fangirl, for that lovely review! ;) I'm sorry everyone, but this will be the last review for a little while. I'll be away for five days, check my profile for more details. Sorry!**

...

It was if I had been punched in the gut. All of the air rushed out of me as I spun to look at the German. "What the hell does _that_ mean?" I say sharply.

I can feel that my eyes are wide with fear and alarm. The blood has rushed to my face with an unknown emotion. I haven't felt so out of control in a long, long time. That one sentence did me in.

He tries to explain, but I feel too far gone. "Well, it's what America said, is it not? He _did_ say that it was up to _you_ to fix _your_ country."

All of a sudden I feel nauseous and dizzy. I can't breathe, and I feel my arm move on its own to push myself against the wall.

"Mackenzie?" I hear the concerned Brit's voice just barely through my now pounding head. I try to blink the hot, instant tears out of my eyes and see him in front of me, and I feel his steady hands push me back up, gripping my shoulders evenly.

"What's wrong?" sounds France's voice. Also concerned. In the moment of my panic attack, I feel slightly amused. Countries from a favorite anime of mine are concerned for me. How often does that happen?

As fast as it came, it recedes. After a few deep breaths, I no longer need Arthur to stabilize me.

"What the bloody hell was that?" He asks breathlessly. I sigh, still trying to regain total control of myself. "I probably should've said something about that earlier. As I've said, I'm one of the most ridiculed girls at my school. It's just partly because I'm…" I sigh. Here we go.

"I'm the 'special' kid. Really it's no big deal. You see, I have an anxiety order. It's gotten worse as I've gotten older. Partially because I'm more aware of it. Partly because I also have… OCD. Obsessive-Compulsive-Disorder. That makes me kind of a control-freak, but I'm very orderly most of the times and I have to do things specifically. I like organizing things by color or alphabetically, things like that. But when I'm presented with something I can't control… I feel helpless and sick and it just messes me up. The anxiety makes it so much worse, because when there's something that makes me anxious, and I can't control it at all…" I felt like I was going to cry. "I can't help but worry, even if my family tells me that there's nothing to worry about and no point _in_ worrying, I _will_ worry! And this… I don't know how to respond to this… And of course everyone that doesn't understand thinks I'm a freak."

I feel my eyes close in defeat as I start to cry. Damn my instability. _Dammit._ I feel rough hands wipe them away.

"Hey, _hey_! It's okay. That doesn't make you a freak; everyone has their 'problems'. And those 'disabilities' just make you who you are. Not. A. Freak. Listen, it's been a rough time. This is a lot to take in. Why don't we go back to your room, take a break, and have a bite to eat. I don't have anywhere to go for a while. Sound good?"

I'm just calm enough to register the fact that this would mean that _he would be cooking._ I can cook… some things… But I'm definitely better than him.

But I can't find anything to say, so I just sniff and smile and make sure my glasses aren't bleary. As he starts to drag me away, I can just make out the look of terror on France's face as he shouts "How terrible! You calm the girl just to poison her! I thought she was a fan of _Hetalia!_ She should know better!"

That's when a spark came into his eyes as Arthur started muttering obscenities. Francis gave a… somewhat alarming smile. "Ohonhon, I see! She's a very, _very_ nice girl. She's just trying to spare your feelings out of whatever respect she has for you! But she is part French, so she _must_ have better taste than you!"

I just barely get out, defensively, "I'm more British!" before Arthur retorts back "How _dare_ you, frog!" and almost drops me in order to lung at him. I barely manage to cling to an arm.

"Arthur," I say quietly, "Fighting's not good for anyone." Yeah. I'm a bloody hippie, aren't I?

He kind of deflates. He fixes me with his bright green eyes. He has an awkward tone to his voice. "Unfortunately you'll have to get used to a lot of fighting. That's what the world's made of."

I roll my eyes and leave to my room, enjoying the quiet space. He follows me in shortly, almost curious. I go into the tiny kitchen space the room offers, looking for signs of life. My voice is slightly dark now. "I hate fighting. Say what you want, but I've always tried to solve my problems verbally. Without yelling either. I leave bickering to… my brothers…"

Who I will probably never hear bicker again. Such a freaking happy time I'm having, right?

When, somehow, I manage to find tomato soup, I start to cook it. I've done it once… it turned out okay. Arthur watches me work enthusiastically, as if intrigued.

"When am I going back to America?" I ask it out of the blue. He seems a little caught off guard. "Well… I'm not sure. As soon as you'd like, I suppose, though we should try to get in touch with some of the people who worked with Alfred. And you definitely shouldn't go until we find out where North Korea is. And it's not just you, either. Japan and South Korea are also staying here for a while longer, seeing as they've both been threatened at least somewhat."

The tone to his voice makes me sick. It sounds as if he doesn't want me to go home, and I know why. Because there probably isn't a 'home' for me to go back to. And so much destruction. Well, I haven't exactly decided to accept my fate as 'the new United States' – if that's actually what's happening – but I have a gut feeling that I should go back. That it's where I belong.

And maybe it is.

I get an idea, though I don't know whether it'll be good or bad. I just want to know, and I'm sure Arthur does too. "Um… Arthur? The soup will be done soon… Do you think you could find some international news channel?" "…Sure?"

He sounded skeptical but I can't blame him there. I heard him flipping through the channels of the television while I poured the soup into a couple of bowls. It smelled edible. That's a good sign.

We found the news channel quickly. By the time I had eaten my soup, it had shown that there was severe damage to most of the U.S. by the missiles, though it turns out that not all of them were nuclear. Some were just assorted bombs and missiles that didn't do as much damage. I just finished my soup when the T.V. said something spectacular.

_"We're on site in D.C. right now, it turns out that there was a missile aimed here, but it didn't hit on target. It only hit half of the city, but did not damage any important historical places or artifacts…"_

"It didn't hit all of D.C… Everything important is still intact!" A small smile of relief comes across my face – though I don't dare say the names of the artifacts that I'm happy survived. Not the best topic to talk about with England.

But that's not the best part. As the reporter moves through D.C., she comes to a part of the city that's not damaged in the slightest. It almost brings more flaming tears to my eyes.

Arthur notices. "What's wrong?" I shake my head. "Nothing at all. But that's that street _I_ live on! My house… everything I own… it's all okay!"

As happy as that news is, more depressing stories follow. We look at destroyed parts of various states. A few places are intact.

And then it shows California. It's a mess. Destruction everywhere, a few ambulances and fire-trucks around. I see people being lifted onto gurneys from one building. The reporter man takes interest. He walks over to an ambulance.

_"This is mass destruction for California, do you think that there are any survivors?" _One of the ambulance people answer him as another gurney is pulled up with a small body in it. I can't breathe when I realize that the person has no legs. They've probably been blown off in an explosion.

_"There are definitely survivors. There were a lot of people that have died here for instance, but we have found a few. We only take the ones found alive to the hospital. Once there, we call the closest relative that we can find for them. Of course, we'll wait until they're conscious. A few are conscious, and we're asking them as soon as we pull out for the hospital. Here's one…"_

The lady takes the reporter over to the person with no legs being pulled up to the gurney. I think it's a kid, male. The boy has dark hair that's darker with soot, so I can't make out the color. His legs are bloody and mangled at the ends, near the knees I think, where they were destroyed. I would've guessed that he had a light tan, but the ash makes his skin darker. He's coughing, and it sounds really bad. Crying too. Poor kid, he seems terrified and in pain.

But when the camera's angled for a better look at his face, and I see dark blue eyes open, I press pause on the remote and shriek. England looks at me, alarmed.

"What's wrong this time?" I stare, wide eyed, at the screen, pointing. I try to catch my breath and keep from sobbing.

That boy. He looks exactly like he could be one of the twins.

That could be Liam or Paul.

...

**AN: The reason why England says that Japan and South Korea are 'threatened' is because I've seen things that said that North Korea is targeting Tokyo and is having... issues we'll say... with South Korea. I mean no harm. Again, read the disclaimer. ;) Also, Mackenzie's OCD and anxiety are not to offend people with OCD or anxiety disorders. I have both just like the character. The way Mackenzie reacts due to these things are the same ways I would react. OCD isn't so much as a problem as it being _mixed_ with anxiety is... not fun, exactly. And yes, like her, I have been teased for OCD and such. People will find out I have it and be like "Oh, I'm OCD _too_ so I have to do _this_." Yeah. They aren't exactly friends to me. So again, no offense, I wouldn't be able to offend you without offending myself. :)**

**QUESTION/ANNOUNCEMENT: By the way, my OC Costa Rica will take a part in this (though however big or small I am not yet sure) so if you don't know who she is and you'd like to find out before hand, please check out "To Babysit Countries". Also, the question: Do you think it'd be cool/okay if I have personifications of the states help Mackenzie out a little? Just to assess the damage everywhere? Would having states be a good idea, or not?**


	7. Chapter 7: A Phone Call

**Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia. If I did, there would be a lot more fluff. And I would be in it.**

**PurpleDiamondDevil: Alrighty, here you go!**

**Guest: Thank you~! Cookies for you!**

...

"Mackenzie…?" he asks again, patiently.

"That looks like my brothers! That kid! He could be one of the twins!" I shout, pointing at the screen. I know I must look like an escaped mental patient. "It's California, too! That's where they were!"

"Calm down, love. It could be any kid – don't get your hopes up." I'm just about to scream that I _can't_ calm down when I hear my phone ring.

I dive to my bag, hoping that it's someone I know. It's an unfamiliar number, but I'm too worried to ignore it.

"Hello?" _"Hello, this is the Calexico Hospital, CA. Is this a Mackenzie Emma Smith speaking?"_

My breath catches. "Yes, I'm Mackenzie Emma Smith! Calexico Hospital…?" _"Yes, when asking Liam Kyle Smith to give us his closest relation, we confirmed that his mother and step-father were both dead, and his brother was as well. However, it seems that he claims you were in England. He gave us this number to contact you. Is it true that you, Mackenzie E. Smith, are his sister?" _"Yes! Liam is my younger brother! Is he okay?" Pain stabbed through my chest at the thought of the rest of them being dead.

_"It appears that the attack on California resulted in his legs being blown off. Besides other minor injuries, that is all we have located. He should be fine… However, you must retrieve your brother when he is able to leave, which will be within the next two weeks. If you are not eighteen or older, you must have an adult guardian with you, or else you and your brother will be sent to an orphanage. Thank you for your time." _"And thank _you _for your information." I hang up, breathless.

I turn and realize that Arthur was standing right next to me, listening. His presence alerts me to what the caller said.

"Wait – I'm not eighteen! Who the hell would I be able to get as a guardian – hell, when I get home, how will I be able to stay _out_ of an orphanage… Mom was an only child, and Dad's family lives all over the world… it'd be a huge change if any of them _did_ accept us… but Liam's alive!" I hug my phone despite the problems.

Arthur studied me, as if trying to figure out what to say. Then he smiled, putting his hands on my shoulders.

"Don't worry about it, love. You're a country now, you have more authority. Some people in the government will find out through the rest of us about the situation, and everything will work out. But we'll definitely have to send you back with a country or two… people that are familiar with America."

"You really think that _I_ can take on the responsibilities of a country? Especially a superpower like America?"

He gave me a weaker smile. "We're going to have to try."

...

**AN: Shortie, I know. I'm sorry. *kyu* Next chapter: Mackenzie is sent back to America with two countries, and leaves her new friend - England. Will she get along with her two chaperones? Will she keep her head under pressure? Will Liam be okay?**

**QUESTION/ANNOUNCEMENT: By the way, my OC Costa Rica will take a part in this (though however big or small I am not yet sure) so if you don't know who she is and you'd like to find out before hand, please check out "To Babysit Countries". ****Also, the question: Do you think it'd be cool/okay if I have personifications of the states help Mackenzie out a little? Just to assess the damage everywhere? Would having states be a good idea, or not?**


	8. Chapter 8: Airport

**Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia. If I did... Canada would be gone... and found somewhere in my house... :)**

**AN: DX I swear, I was going to update eleven hours ago, but the power went out and I had no internet and I fell asleep! *deep breath* I'm sorry!**

**PurpleDiamondDevil: Thanks, and sorry about not getting your name right last time, I fixed it~!**

...

I'm standing in an airport, but this time I'm not alone. It's been a few days and finally, yesterday, one of the countries spotted North Korea attempting to fly to Russia. Nobody knows why he's going _there_, but now we have an angry Russia roaming.

Life is good. Well, not for North Korea.

We're waiting outside of security for the countries that'll take me back and get me on my feet. Arthur still hasn't said who they are.

"Arthur…?" I ask. He's starting to get annoyed, and he won't stop looking at his watch. The guy's amazing and all, but if he gets pissed I'm back to square one. "Who are these countries, anyways?"

He sighs, angrily tapping on his watch as we wait. "Well, I wanted to choose people close to Alfred that know the country well enough… So I know that I chose Camilla but I can't remember the other one…"

"Who's Camilla?" The name's unfamiliar to me. Perhaps a minor country or one not shown in the anime or manga?

Arthur gives a fake laugh, which allows for the annoyance to seep through. "Camilla Madrigal is Costa Rica. She would always act like Alfred's younger sister, even though her siblings are actually the countries of Central America. She's a nice girl, so I don't know what's keeping her… and… I still don't remember the other one. She said she was bringing someone…"

I have a sneaking suspicion of who this country is…

"Inglaterra, estamos aquí!" A girl ran up. She had braided dark brown hair with one loose, bouncing curl, pretty purple flowers woven into it. She had deep brown eyes and wore a green dress with blue, white, and red flowers and leaves on it, and she also wore nice sandals. In one hand, she was dragging her suitcase. In the other, she was dragging…

"Who is that with you?" Arthur asked, confused. I sigh, exasperated. Before he can say it himself, I say "That's _Canada_! He's my favorite character of Hetalia!" He looks surprised and a little embarrassed. "You know who I _am_?" His soft voice is just like it sounded in the anime.

"See, Matthew, I told you not to worry!" Costa Rica shoved him playfully, "I knew that if she was a fan of the anime, she'd remember you! Now let's get through security!"

Although poor Arthur still seemed very confused, we said our goodbyes and somehow got through security pretty quickly. How Kumajirou got through, I have absolutely no clue. But Canada seemed pretty elated that I knew who he was, he was practically glowing as we walked down the terminal.

It was a while before we boarded, but not too long. "…Where are we sitting?" I asked, looking at my ticket.

Costa Rica answered me. "Near the back, all in one row. You're sitting in the middle." "Why?" I don't mean to sound disgruntled, but I do.

A smile flashes at me while she keeps speaking, pushing me further down to our seats. "I know that you're fairly independent, Alfred was too. But right now you're being threatened. If North Korea finds out that Alfred managed to pass the United States to you, which he _will_, you'll be in danger. So we're going to teach you the ropes and act as bodyguards!"

We all sit down. Canada gives me a sympathetic smile. "We're not exactly the _fiercest_ of the countries, but we _can_ handle a gun." "Oh? That's good. I would be worried for your militaries if you _couldn't_." I retort back sarcastically. He chuckles.

It's a bloody long flight. Since none of us even had the chance to get used to the time difference, I notice Camilla and Matthew fall asleep pretty quickly.

"Bloody good 'bodyguards'." As adorable as the pair is, they probably wouldn't be able to scare off a group of soccer moms.

Meanwhile, I can't. The _last_ time I was on a plane, well, I got the nightmare of my life handed to me on a silver platter. I felt fear churn in my gut as our plane started taking off.

But… then my eyes started getting heavy… and the sounds of the plane were left far behind as I was lured into a nice, welcoming sleep.

...

**AN: And now you've met Costa Rica, (if you haven't already, you may be reading "To Babysit Countries" or my new story "Smile in the Face of Anger") so I hope you like her! She and Canada will be helping Mackenzie out for a while.**

**QUESTION: ****Do you think it'd be cool/okay if I have personifications of the states help Mackenzie out a little? Just to assess the damage everywhere? Would having states be a good idea, or not?**


	9. Chapter 9: Back Home With Pancakes!

**Disclaimer: AW, MAN! Somebody didn't do their job! I wanted to be able to own Hetalia today for my birthday... IT DIDN'T HAPPEN! Ah, well, I guess that would've been a difficult gift to acquire... So another year in which I DON'T own Hetalia.**

**AN: Here's a present from me to you all, whether it's my birthday or not, you lovely readers deserve chapters!**

**SocietyMember: Thanks for the review, love. And for pointing out my mistake!**

...

The rest of the flight was rather uneventful, thankfully, and soon we found my family car. When we had come here, we all had flights relatively close together, and we were all coming home on the same day, so we just left the car here.

Costa Rica immediately hops in the front seat, shooing Canada into the back with me, muttering something about my person safety. I roll my eyes and allow him to scoot in next to me.

A short drive, and we ended up at the place I wasn't sure I'd ever see again.

My house.

I take out my keys and unlock the door. My hand shakes trying to open it. Camilla gives me a look. "Does it look like anyone has broken in?" The suspicion in her voice unnerves me. I can't think like that.

"Not really…" I open it. I walk in, smelling the smells of home, looking around. I sigh. Everything's just as we left it: messy and yet surprisingly comfortable. Matthew and Camilla look around a bit before relaxing. After a while, Matthew looks up at both of us.

"Are you guys hungry…? It's rather late here and we didn't eat much today. I know that it's been mainly England looking after you Mackenzie, so…" "Say no more, Matthew." I say, remembering. "But what should we eat? I can search the pantries, and I'm not an _awful_ cook…"

He gives me a smile sweet as honey and a wink. "Actually, I have something else in mind. May I borrow your kitchen?" "…Of course!" I have to wonder what he's going to do. Something comes to mind…

After a while, a beautiful smell emerges from my kitchen. Costa Rica gives me a small smirk. "Hey, Mackenzie, have you ever had breakfast for dinner?" "Of course I have! It's bloody amazing to have breakfast for dinner!" "That's good… because _this_ is Mattie's specialty."

I smile. I've only had _dreams_ about Canada doing this. And now it's happening? …If only it didn't come at such a high price.

"I'm done!" We go over to the kitchen and sit down only to be presented with mountains of pancakes. With a smile, Matthew pours maple syrup over them in excess.

Before eating, I just _have_ to ask. "…I didn't think we even _had_ maple syrup?" It comes out mischievously, and a glint of humor comes into his eyes. "Oh? That's odd… well it's a good thing that I always keep some on me…" I roll my eyes, taking a bite.

Oh. My. Bloody. God.

My eyes pop wide as disks and Costa Rica has to stifle laughter. "Now look what you've gone and done, Mattie! She's going to be comatose from pancake heaven overdrive. It's too awesome for her to handle, she's just a kid!" Canada gives a little smile, eyes bashfully going down. "You sound like Prussia when you talk like that…"

"Oh my bloody God Matthew this is absolutely wonderful!" I exclaim before eating more pancakes. They both laugh this time.

"Yes, it does seem I've corrupted her…" he says faintly as Kumajirou comes over.

"Who are you?"

"…I'm Canada…" he looks up at the two of us and smiles. Camilla and I glance at each other before stating the obvious.

"King of maple syrup!"

...

**AN: Sorry that it's so short *bad Hawk is bad* But I'm a little busy today. *shrugs* BUT INSTEAD, EVERYONE THAT REVIEWS GETS PANCAKES FROM MATTIE! :D Another little birthday treat for you all.**

**QUESTION: ****Do you think it'd be cool/okay if I have personifications of the states help Mackenzie out a little? Just to assess the damage everywhere? Would having states be a good idea, or not? So far, people are saying yes, so I'll probably take this down in a chapter or two. But please voice your ideas!**


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